A New Suit
by Selah25
Summary: A Special Ops Agent for the FBI, Elle Donovan, shows up on the front steps of an old friend, Special Agent Seeley Booth.  What is their connection?  Why has she returned? This is NOT a BB fic.  It's an exploration of Booth's life prior to "Bones".
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was nearing eleven at night when a timid, yet, startling rapping occurred at his door. Retrieving his side arm out of habit, he double checked on his son, and approached the door. The rapping came again, this time less timidly. Pressing his cheek against the door, he stared through the peephole and took a breath. He holstered his weapon, in the waistband of his sleek jeans, and unlatched the sliding lock. Opening the door, he looked down upon her. She was holding tightly onto a rather large duffel that swung over her right shoulder.

"Elle," her name slowly whistled out from his lips.

"Hey Seeley," she glanced over her shoulder and then back at him.

"Mind if I come in?"

Holding the door open, he apologized, and offered to take her bag. He shut the door, put away his sidearm, and gestured they move towards the living room. It was small room, with a black leather couch and an armchair to match. In the center, an oblong, sleek, glass table, held by black cast iron legs had an array of magazines and coloring books. Small toys littered the floor, their empty crate overturned by an over zealous four year old.

"Last time I saw you," she scanned his face, "you said that if I ever…"

"Needed a place to stay," he finished for her, "of course, of course."

A little voice came bouncing off the hallway walls as Elle stood as tall and quietly as a mannequin. She turned towards the voice and took a slight breath.

"Popcorn," the little boy's voice shouted, "we need popcorn!"

"Oh Seeley," Elle furrowed her brow, a small frown played at her lip, "I didn't know you had Parker."

"I can always stay at a hotel."

"Don't be silly," his broad smile lit his face, "he'll be glad to see you."

Seeley called out to his son, Parker, that they had a visitor. Parker, came running down the hallway, his blonde curls bouncing, his bare feet pounded down the wooden hall. He was dressed in blue jeans and a white polo. Elle smiled as she took a second glance at Seeley. Parker was a miniaturized version of his father, clothing, and all.

Seeley got down to his knees and grabbed a hold of his son and began to introduce their guest, when Parker, his bright eyes wide in delight, ran over to Elle.

"Elle!" he threw himself against her legs, hugging her tightly.

"You here for our sleepover too?"

"Hey there, kiddo," she squatted down to return his hug.

"You're having a sleepover?"

"Uh huh," he nodded animatedly, "daddy said we get to stay up late too!"

"That's right," Seeley tussled his son's curls, and then mouthed to Elle,

"He'll be out before I even pop the kernels."

Elle smiled. Everything that she needed was standing in front of her. Stability, comfort, strength, and love, all were emitted from Seeley's concerned eyes and his welcoming smile. These were things she had long forgotten as a Special Operative for the FBI. Her latest stint, undisclosed for many reasons, left her half the woman she was, and worse, longing for the years she had to pretend to be something she wasn't. Seeley took in the view, her sullen expression, her dark eyes, heavy as if she hadn't slept in weeks, and the cautious way she took in the logistics of the room. Seeley patted Parker on the rear and sent his son back towards the playroom. Parker stopped midway and turned to Elle.

"You have to see my tent!"

With a four year old's speed, he turned abruptly and was out of sight. Elle turned to Seeley and her expression said it all.

"A tent?"

"Boys weekend," Seeley shrugged, "the rain kept us from having it outside."

"You sure I'm not intruding," she followed Seeley into his kitchen, where she watched him toss in a packet of unpopped kernels, pressed the button on the microwave, and turned to face her. His expression darkened.

"I'm positive," he reached for her arm, but she flinched. She was positive he didn't notice, but he grasped her arm, his fingers a bit firmer this time.

"You flinched," his hand rested on her lower arm.

"No, I didn't," she shrugged off his perceptiveness, lying through her teeth.

"You never flinch," he stated and with that, he rolled up her sleeve and she attempted her hardest to pull away.

Her arm was an array of varied bruises, some healing, some recent. The deep purples, ghastly greens, paling ambers, and stony blues that coated her arm, made him shrink back in disgust. Seeley despised the mere thought of a woman being beaten. Elle flinched again, this time as his fingers traced one of the bruises.

"What the hell is this," his words came out in low thunderous rumbles.

He wrapped his hand around her waist and this time Elle winced in pain as his hand graced her side. Alarming Seeley, he feverishly lifted up the side of her shirt and to his horror; more bruises covered half her back and her side.

"Better yet," he pushed her back so he could look in her eyes, "_who _the hell did this?"

"You know I can't disclose that information, Seeley," she verbalized, her tone, steady, trained, and formal.

"Don't play that bureaucratic bullshit card with me," he was serious.

"Please, Seeley," Elle pressed her shirt and rolled down her sleeve, "not tonight."

"I'll find out," he promised her, and as grateful as she was with him, she was also a bit pestered.

"I know you will," she placed a hand on his cheek, "but I rather tell you, when I'm ready."

"I thought you couldn't disclose that information," he slightly grinned.

"I can't."

The microwave beeped that that popcorn was ready and Seeley grabbed it, poured it into a big metal, and slammed the door shut. He was used the games they had to play, the secrets they had to keep from one another, but this time, something she had been working on, had her literally beaten and bruised. He knew, from his years as a sniper, that you could repress those memories, but they always found their way out, creeping into your dreams, the shadows of the faces you killed, passing you on the sidewalk. Whatever it was she went through, it'd never be too far gone. She may heal, physically, but emotionally…

He sighed and took in a few deep breaths before turning to face her. She looked so small, standing in his kitchen, almost lost. Then she smiled and it was as if she had finally been found. He was better off not worrying, he knew she would talk to him when she was ready, but his blood was still slowly boiling with anger. She tilted her head to the side and asked him if he had anything to drink, snapping him back to the present.

"A water will do," she walked to the sink, but Seeley grabbed her hand and led her back towards him.

"Bottles are in the fridge," he kissed the top of her head, "when you're ready, down the hall, and to your left."

"Seeley…," she scrunched her nose, "Parker's here."

Seeley's body vibrated with laughter, the popcorn jumping in the bowl. He walked away from her and she could here his voice fading as they became distanced. She watched as he stopped and turned around. She could barely make out a wink, as his voice got a bit louder.

"One track mind with you Donovan," he shook his head, "come see Parker's tent."

Elle took a few sips of water and propped herself up against the marble counter in the kitchen. Trying desperately to catch her breath, she fought back the tears in her eyes. Feeling his hands on her, brought back such tender moments, but what was worse, was the fact that they were clouded by her recent activities. Her time and duty with the Special Operatives was finally over, but not without consequences. She came within inches of her life not knowing if she would ever make it out alive. They teach you everything, the training is dually immense and intense, yet they never teach you how to recover. She hated lying to Seeley. She knew he would call the Agency behind her back and find out the details and until he did, she knew she had time to think about things. Running her hand through her hair, she pulled it back into a loose ponytail, and found her way towards the _Boys' Room._

She peeked her head through the door and saw Seeley's legs sticking out from the inside of a large, industrial sized, tent. She walked over and squatted down to peer inside. He turned to face her and threw his thumb in Parker's direction. Sure enough, the little boy was asleep amongst the many pillows and blankets that lined the floor of the tent. Seeley had strung lights along the tent, creating a starry night effect. Seeley called her over, and patted one of the large pillows.

"What did I tell you," he caressed his son's head, "out like a light."

"He's gotten so big," Elle whispered, "looks more and more like you."

"Lucky kid," he raised his eyebrows twice and grinned.

Seeley exited the tent and held out a hand for Elle as she got to her feet. It was incredibly spacious inside the tent, that she didn't realize she was practically standing inside of it. They sat on the floor, just outside the tent, in case Parker woke up, missing his dad, and they talked.

"So what brings you to D.C.?"

"Transfer," Elle didn't give him much, "short notice."

"The Agency's getting me situated, hence why I don't have a place to stay."

"No kidding," he guffawed, "they're footing the bill?"

"I see it as sort of a severance pay," she scoffed, "I'm no longer Special Ops."

"You're just a plain suit then," he smiled, "like me."

"Did you get your orders yet?"

"Transfer to Washington, D.C. Bring what you own. Get a suit." She talked with her hands.

"I've pretty much got that duffel and my side arm, Seeley," she sighed, "I didn't acquire much as a Special Ops."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Elle and Seeley talked until they both fell asleep, Seeley propped up against one of the pillows he took from the tent, and Elle's head resting safely on his chest. Seeley despised going to bed angry, with or without a woman, yet Elle never conceded to what or who had caused her injuries. What she was able to disclose was how long she was gone, which Seeley was able to decipher for himself. The last time he set his eyes on her was approximately a year and two months to the day. He remembered her leaving his apartment, standing in his doorway, lingering more so, not wanting to say goodbye. Goodbyes were final in their line of work. Yes, they were trained to survive, but it was the others, those that they were sent to _free, sustain, pacify, _or, what made Seeley shudder, _murder for the good of the country, _who weren't trainedThey were unstable bombs, for lack of a better term, ready to blow up whatever and whomever was in their way.Her destination was off the record, her length of stay, undetermined. In governmental terms, _until the job was done._

Elle hardly dreamt, but when she did, they were nightmarish echoes of her tortuous past. She rarely saw the faces of her captives; they wore black sheets with the eyes missing. She endured all forms of torture and as she relived the intensive dripping of water on her forehead, she felt an oddly familiar tapping on her nose. _Tap…tap…tap…_she opened her eyes. Squinting from the sunlight, she saw that Parker had crawled out from his castle and had his face eye level with hers, his cheek resting on his father's chest as well. He was poking Elle's nose.

"I have to use the potty," he whispered.

"O…kay," Elle yawned, "let's go big guy."

She watched as Parker sleepily walked down to the bathroom, half of his hair, scrunched to the side of his head, the other, reminiscent of Alfalfa. Why Parker woke her up, she didn't know, nor did it bother her. Seeley's promise that they were going to sleep in, seemed a dream itself, but as Parker came out of the bathroom, and tugged on her hand, he crawled back into the tent. He was snoring, short little grunts, escaped his tiny lips. Elle smiled to herself and found herself crawling into the tent, cuddling up with Parker.

Seeley woke, glanced around the room, and realized Elle was no longer near him. Thinking she had left, which she was known to do, he sighed, cursed under his breath, and stretched his arms over his head. He quietly tiptoed passed the tent and stopped short. Looking down, he saw two feet, too big to be Parker's inching out of the tent. Squatting down, he peered in, and smiled. _That's something you don't see everyday_, he thought to himself. _I could get used to this. _He walked to the bathroom, splashed some cold water on his face, and headed to the kitchen where he brewed a fresh pot of coffee; strong.

The smell was enough to stir Elle and Parker who walked in hand and hand, both rubbing the sleep out of their eyes.

"Morning sleepyhead," Seeley grinned.

"Mornin' daddy," Parker pulled himself up to one of the stools that lined Seeley's island.

"I meant that one," he pointed to Elle as he rubbed off some drool that had long since dried off Parker's cheek.

"It's too early to be cute, Booth," Elle grumbled, "I need to wake up."

"Never were a morning person, were you?" Seeley handed her a cup of coffee; sweet and light, just the way she liked it.

"That's one thing I need," she graciously accepted the coffee and sipped it.

"What else could you possibly need this early on a lazy Sunday morning?"

"A shower," she laughed as Parker held his nose.

"That's right buddy," Seeley nodded, "you're next."

"Lady first," Parker winked and pointed a finger.

"He didn't," Elle's mouth went slack as she witnessed Parker's early demise from being cute and innocent, "oh, he's definitely your kid, Seeley."

"I'm making breakfast," Seeley ignored her, "what's your pleasure?"

"Whatever Parker's having," she winked at him and walked out of the kitchen.

Elle found her duffel bag in Seeley's bedroom, not the guest room, as one would have imagined. Then again, she never stayed in the guest room. She rummaged through her belongings, pulled out a pair of khakis, a long sleeved navy blue shirt, undergarments, and toiletries. After the past few weeks, Elle welcomed hot water, soap, and privacy more than your average person. In fact, she realized, she was a glutton for the few things everyone happened to take for granted. As she ran the hot water, the steam began to open her senses and her pores simultaneously. Stripping out of her clothes, she left them in a crumpled pile on the floor, stared at herself in the mirror, frowned, and carefully stepped into the tub. Pulling the curtain over, she winced as the hot water pelted her badly bruised skin. She was mid way through as she lathered her body and scrubbed carefully around her thighs, not to disrupt the healing scars. To her astonishment, she heard the bathroom door swing open, banging against the wall. He wasn't one to invade on someone's privacy, but he wasn't feeling as patient as he should have been. Seeley's voice reverberated off the tiles as Parker followed him into the bathroom.

"Sorry, kiddo," he pushed him out, "grown up talk."

"How about I time you and see how fast you can put all those pillows away?"

Elle heard Parker squeal and run down the hallway, leaving a stony Seeley at the door. She heard it close over and his heavy steps approached.

"Grown up talk?"

"I must be in trouble," Elle smirked as she rinsed out her hair.

Seeley stepped towards the curtain and she could see his silhouette, looming. His fists were balled.

"Iraq." It wasn't a question and she knew that.

"What red tape did you have to cut through," she turned off the water and squeezed the water out of her hair.

Elle reached for the curtain, but held it shut.

"Turn around, Seeley."

"There isn't anything about you I haven't seen," he grumbled.

_There are quite a few new things, _she thought to herself as she scanned her body. _Burns, cuts, bruises, _she painfully laughed to herself, _take your pick. _She wasn't about to be pitied.

"Turn around, Seeley," she said, this time, more roughly.

Seeley did as she asked, reluctantly, a towel hung from his outstretched hand. His eyes, however, rested on the mirror. Elle wasn't as quick to cover up, as Seeley was to catch a glimpse of her body. Her thighs were covered in multiple lacerations, precision cuts, and her one leg, slightly burned, the skin, crinkled and damaged. The bruises appeared more terrible today than they did the night before.

"Damn it," he whispered, turning to face her, the towel doing a poor job of concealing her battle wounds.

"Who'd you have to wake up this early on their day off?"

"We're the FBI, Elle," he propped himself against the sink, "we never have off."

She cocked her head to the side, as if to say, _you're off now, aren't you, _and he squared his jaw as he clenched his teeth.

"What did you find out," she asked him, unable to pretend to be angry, "besides I was in Iraq?"

"You were Special Ops," he rambled, "sent to gather Intel from one of the notorious insurgent affiliates."

"That's right," she nodded, "chalk that up to my Minor in Arabic."

"I was sent undercover, as an informant, to infiltrate the insurgents, gather information, and report it back to Us."

"Which meant you had to go deep undercover," he shook his head.

"It worked, Seeley," she was stoic, "until the final two weeks."

"Somehow, they found out, I wasn't who I pretended to be," she wiped the condensation off the mirror with the palm of her hand.

"And they never did," she grimaced as she saw her reflection.

"Up until my evacuation," she continued, "I never gave in."

"How did you get out?" 

"Enough, Seeley," she turned to face him, "isn't it enough?"

"For now," he reached over to her and she allowed him to embrace her.

"Hey Seeley," she whispered into his neck.

"Yeah?"

"You still a God fearing man?"

Booth laughed and nodded,

"I'd say I was dedicated and devoted to my God, but, yes."

"Why?"

She pulled away from him and she had that lost look in her eyes again as she spoke.

"I haven't been to church, in a long, long, time."

"Well, lucky for you, it just happens to be Sunday."

Seeley left her to finish getting dressed and they shared a nonverbal understanding as she entered the kitchen. A plate of Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes drizzled with syrup waited for her. To her right, sat Parker, sticky from the syrup, but still cute as ever. To her left, was Seeley, flipping pancakes faster than they were eating them. Elle found it comforting, yet a bit strange, that they both were so tortured, in their own ways.


	3. Chapter 3

_I wanted to put warning for this chapter. We all know Seeley Booth is a devote Catholic and it is a strong part of his character. There is a scene in this chapter where faith, God, and the question, "Where is He?" are presented. With that, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Thanks again to everyone who has read and reviewed! You guys are awesome!_

Chapter 3

Their hour spent in church was silent, apart from the occasional hymn and prayer. Parker was incredibly patient for a toddler, sitting quietly with his hands folded. Elle wished she had his sense of naivety and wistfulness. She wasn't as patient, not when it came to God, and it showed. The third reading happened to center around faith, a concept she was familiar with, yet she was not as keen on believing in the unseen as Seeley and many other Catholics. She was a hands on type of woman. Seeley liked to tease her and call her _Doubting Thomas_, a religious figure who failed to believe Jesus had risen from the dead, even though he was as tangible as the men and women who surrounded his rising. Having to touch, probe, dig deeper, and get dirty, was her way of life. Like Thomas, she wouldn't be convinced until she too could place her fingers in the wounds of Jesus' pierced hands and side.

Her year spent in Iraq, made her question God's existence in the world. All around her, the world was fighting, for what reason, it was a toss up. _Holy Wars_, which she frowned upon, because as Seeley tried repeatedly to convince her, God wouldn't be pleased with millions of men, women, and children, dying all for a reason unknown. She had to agree, who in their right mind, would smile upon something so evil, so inhumane? _Oil_, which came down to the greediness of both the Americans and the outside world, shamed even the innocent bystanders. _He said, she said_, bureaucratic reasons why they went to War in the first place. _Preventative measures_ that could have been taken, but never were, fear, and, an overall sense of duty, called millions to take action, for better, or worse.

_Where was God when I was being tortured_, she often wondered, her thoughts biting and raw. _Where was He, when they dripped acid onto my bare leg? Where was your God, Seeley, when they took a razor blade, rusty and used, to slice my thighs, small enough to keep me alive, but deep enough to bleed? Where was He when I took the lives of others, _she shivered, _would He condone self-defense? Did her God, did Seeley's God, believe in survival of the fittest? _Her mind swirled with numerous questions, neither Seeley, nor a priest could answer. Her answers, the ones she sought, were few and far between. It was apparent that they had once again taken control of her, because Seeley had to clear his throat twice, to get her attention.

"Penny for your thoughts," he placed Parker in the back seat, strapping him in.

Elle looked over at Seeley, unaware that they had left the church. _Shows how much I truly pay attention, _she scolded herself.

"With the inflation these days," she smiled, "I'd be an idiot if I didn't charge at least a dime."

"Seriously, though," he prodded, "what were you thinking about?" 

"God, existence, both ours and His," she bluntly responded.

"Ah, faith's quandaries," he nodded, "what can I clear up for you?"

"How can you be so smug about it," she stared out the windshield, noticing a slight drizzle.

"God fearing man," he shrugged, "you said so yourself."

"Do you fear His _being_ itself," she pushed, "or do you fear that if you don't believe in someone, something, that it was all for nothing?"

Seeley, usually quick to quote a chapter and verse, or some commandment, sucked on his breath for a moment. Weighing which direction he should proceed in, he faltered for a minute, aware that something outside of his normalcy, had caused him to hesitate. _The Devil_, he shrugged off the idea, and spoke.

"I am your God, you shall have no other God's before me," he simply stated, quoting the very first commandment.

"If He didn't exist," he continued, "where did the Commandments come from?"

"From lonely men and women, who need to believe in something, to believe that there is someone, or thing, out there, that is in control, when we are not, a higher form of ourselves." She took a breath. "Something outside of ourselves whom we can place the blame on, when we commit _sins_."

"A whipping boy, Seeley," she was bitter, "God is our whipping boy."

Seeley had heard this argument before. He could imagine that what she had experienced had caused old, bitter, confusing, thoughts, to stir. He wondered what she focused on, if not God, when she was being held prisoner. He feared that what held her sane and intact, was not God, but something more sinister, like retribution, or worse, hate. A voice, tiny, and confused, spoke from the backseat.

"I'm hungry."

Elle had to chuckle. Here she was, in a heated discussion with Seeley, on the topic of God's existence, and Parker, unable to provide them with anything other than regurgitated wisdom, tackled the one topic, they could all agree on; food.

"How about burgers?" Seeley offered, knowing Parker would jump at the chance for one of those famous oversized burgers.

"Can Elle come too?" he innocently asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Elle squinted at Seeley, "don't you want to spend some time with Parker before he goes back to his mom?"

"Pwetty pwease," Parker pleaded from the backseat.

Seeley batted his eyelashes and aped Parker's sentiment,

"Pwetty pwease, Elle."

Throwing her hands up in mock surrender, she gushed that they were twisting her arm, and she could do nothing but agree. Parker clapped while Seeley gave Elle one of his gorgeous, _you can't resist me, _smiles, and winked. Seeley's ability to win her over, irritated the hell out of her, but she was genuinely enamored with the both of them. Was it that she was in love with Seeley, or the mere existence of him? The level of comfort and ability to be herself could be added to the _Pros._ Was it that she was easily head over heels in love with Parker, or the idea of a child all her own? More questions that she didn't have concrete answers to. Their's was an already made family, one that she fit into perfectly, which caused her to feel euphoric and morose concurrently.

They ate burgers, hers loaded with mushrooms and gooey Swiss cheese, Seeley's piled high with chili, cheese, and onions, while Parker's was hanging off his chin. Elle was unconsciously building a tower with the fries, while Parker was taking one from the bottom, causing it to collapse, and him to laugh. It was second nature when it came to Seeley and Parker. For her, she could multitask; compartmentalize her work, her social life, her loves. If only she could find space for the opportunity to move on.

Her reassignment came shortly after her reentrance into the United States. According to her psych evaluation, she wasn't stable enough to go incognito, but to be a _plain suit_, like Seeley suggested, required less bravado, but an equal amount of constancy. There wasn't any question in her ability to do her job effectively. She was to meet with her supervisor within the FBI tomorrow. They were to go over her reassignment, preferably not a desk jockey, which is what most unstable ex agents ended up becoming. She had a lot to bring to the table in her defense. A dual major in Psychology and Criminology, with her minor in Arabic, which was always needed when dealing with anti-terrorism, terrorist cells, and the like. She was top ranked in her training at Quantico, which catapulted her towards a life of false identities and undercover tactics. Elle didn't fear much, but tomorrow, her first _interview_, after her trials in Iraq, caused her burger to somersault in her stomach.

"I've got an early day tomorrow," Booth spoke with a mouthful of fries.

"You have anything planned?"

"I'm meeting with the _big boss_ tomorrow," she rolled her eyes.

"Hey," he swallowed, "it's a bit early to be acting rebellious, don't you think?"

"_I_ follow the rules, _Seeley_," she drew out his name, her tone, slightly off color.

Booth laughed, choking on his cola, "you deviate when it comes to the rules."

"I learned from the best," she teased.

"We can carpool," he suggested, "what time is your appointment?"

"Eight o'clock," she dipped a napkin in her water and cleaned the edges of Parker's lips. He stuck his tongue out at her and she crossed her eyes, making him giggle.

"Good, I have to be there around the same time," he pulled a few bills from his wallet and tossed them on the table.

"There's something I've been needing to do," she pulled Parker out of his booster seat and he planted a small kiss on her cheek, catching her off guard.

"Hey little man," Seeley rustled his hair, "where's mine?"

After Parker quickly pecked his dad on the cheek, Seeley picked up their conversation.

"What have you been _needing_ to do," putting emphasis on the word needing.

Elle ran a hand through her wavy hair and smiled.

"The suit's obsolete if my hair doesn't meet their standards."

"When you wear your hair like _that_," Seeley put an arm around her shoulder, "it turns me on."

"Right, Seeley," she shook her head, "so do blondes, brunettes, and cheerleaders."

"Should I go on?"

"I like variety," he shrugged his shoulders as if to say _what can I say, _"then again, I always end up coming back to one particular woman."

Elle didn't say anything, she didn't have to respond. She knew he meant her. They were High School sweethearts, who later met up at Quantico, after a couple partners, and a few failed relationships. Keeping their relationship quiet through training, they found it difficult to remain close, when both were shipped off overseas. By serendipity alone, they rekindled their relationship, over a year ago, after Seeley and Parker's mom were no longer together. Then, like a slap to the face, Elle was hand chosen to go undercover as a Special Ops Agent, and they were separated once again. While she was incognito, Seeley had rebounded with Camille, whom she knew he still worked with, when he was working cases with The Jeffersonian. Even though she was undercover, Elle had the means to keep an eye on her life back in the states. If she was here to stay, did that mean they could finally settle down, or would one of them have to leave? _Would she be able to handle another disappointment? _


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Standing in front of the Seeley's bedroom mirror, Elle's image, sleek and statuesque reflected back towards her. With a new sense of self, a razor sharp bob that graced her cheekbones, and a newly laundered suit, that screamed professional female, she took a deep breath. Then, she took another. Tiny flashes of lights flickered before her eyes. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, standing firmly with her feet planted on the ground, waiting for them to shimmer and fade. Now wasn't the time to stress out. This was her second chance.

"Wow," Seeley whistled, "forgot how good you look in a suit."

"So did I," she never took her eyes off the mirror, Seeley's presence apparent in the same reflection.

Her crisp white button down, her collar just as sharp as the angles of her hair, fit her well. Emphasizing her lean neck and providing enough cleavage to be deemed _proper _she left the first two buttons undone. She zipped up her leather boots, with the half-inch heels and thick soles, perfect for walking and comfortable enough to strike up a jog if the situation called for it. In addition, the heels gave her confidence, something she had long since forgotten she owned, since Iraq. The last time she wore a suit, was when she was transported back to the United States after her mission in Iraq. As if, putting on that suit, could mask the shell of an agent she had become.

Her appearance had drastically been altered; she initially posed as a graduate student who was secretively involved with a high profile, though low on the radar, terrorist cell. Her mission was to gather Intel as she simultaneously fed the enemy vital, yet, benign information, from her own government. Once, she proved viable, her sleek appearance became more relaxed, yet foreign; she donned a burqa when in public and her long, deep, chocolate brown hair, which she took pride in, began to gain inches as she kept it concealed.

"I spent months with this covered," she tugged at her shortened tresses, "and now that I have the freedom to wear it down…" her voice trailed.

"Uncle Sam's insisting you follow protocol," Seeley finished.

"Uncle Sam…Big Brother," she flicked her hand, "fictitious men representative of a male dominated government."

"I took an oath," she turned to face him, "to serve and protect," she smiled a bit wickedly.

"But I never said I'd be happy about it."

Seeley knew not to add fuel to the fire and as he straightened his tie, he mentioned that cup o' Joe that he promised they'd get on the way to headquarters. Elle looked down at her watch and her eyes went wide with shock.

"Seeley," she tapped the face of her watch, "I think my battery's slowing down."

"I have ten to eight," she looked up, "that can't be right."

"It's true," he laughed, "I let you sleep in."

"Seeley!" she threw up her hands in frustration, "Being late isn't something I had planned for my first day back."

"Relax your pretty little head," Seeley reassured her, "I got a call this morning saying your interview got pushed back."

Stunned, Elle furrowed her brow,

"Why didn't _I _receive that call?"

"Seems the Director wants to speak with me as well," Seeley's eye twinkled with mystery.

"Perfect," Elle sighed, "how is it that the agent who shot at an ice-cream truck, has _any_ say on my being reinstated?"

"Easy," Seeley headed towards the front door, "you know how touchy I am when it comes to clowns."

"Prickly is more like it," she gritted her teeth, "nonetheless, you know how touchy _I _can be when my identity comes as a package deal," she pointed a finger at him and back at herself, "rather than being seen as an individual capable and willing to do her job."

"Admit it," he irresistibly smiled, "we did make a great team, you and I."

Closing the door behind him, he knew she agreed, regardless of her silence. The look on her face gave it all away; they _were_ a great team, on and off the job. No matter how infuriating he could be, or how stubborn, she was known to be, they could outmaneuver the shrewdest of criminals, without speaking a word. Now, _that,_ was a symbiotic relationship.


	5. Chapter 5

The drive to FBI headquarters was a dull one; neither Booth nor Elle bothered to speculate why the Deputy Director of the FBI was calling both of them in for a meeting at 9 a.m. sharp. What bothered Elle was the fact that the agency had located her at Booth's, spoke to him, not her, as if she was just an afterthought. She drummed her manicured fingernails along the door, as they passed by the Washington Monument.

"How'd they know I'd be at your place, Booth?" She turned her head to steal a glance at him, to see if he would flinch, balk, something that was unlike him, to lead her to suspect he had stirred trouble with the agency.

Instead, he jammed the turn signal, turned left into HQ, and parked in his designated parking spot. Elle instinctively reached for the "aw shit" handle, gripped tightly as the SUV skidded to a halt under the parking deck of The Federal Bureau of Investigation.

"What'd you do, Seeley?" She drew out his name, raising it an octave, as well as her hand.

"I did what I had to do," he made sure the windows were rolled up before he finished his thoughts. Almost clipping her fingers in the process, Elle cursed under her breath and pulled back her hand, bringing her fingers to her mouth.

"Damn it," he reached for her hand, but she brushed him away.

"Let it go, Seeley, please," she cautioned him with her eyes, her lips were barely moving, a technique they had learned in their twenties, conversing as if they weren't moving their lips at all. To anyone on the outside, they would appear to be having a stand off, a silent battle.

"You came to me, remember, Elle?" He leaned forward on his seat, throwing back his seatbelt, the automatic recoil, almost as biting as his tone.

Okay, so he was a bit hasty, which wasn't the agent she had known. He had overstepped her boundaries, called in a few favors, to find out where she was stationed, found out why she was pulled from the operative, but all the "red tape" that Elle had assumed he had cut through, wasn't enough. She was holding back from him and when she did that, he knew what she had gone though was nightmarish. That's why he wasn't his cocksure self this morning.

"You walked up my steps, into my home, leaving questions."

"And you, let me in, you got your answers," she hissed, her lips pursed tightly as his upper lip trembled in frustration.

"I got the blacked out version they had you write up for your file," he pulled the keys from the ignition and jangled them in his hand.

"You got all I could disclose," she sighed, "I want to tell you, all of it, but I can't."

"Can't," he raised an eyebrow, "or won't?"

She avoided his ultimatum, leaving it hanging like laundry out to dry; she flipped the lock to her door, pushed it open, and slammed it, leaving Seeley Booth to seethe in the driver's seat. She closed her eyes, counted to ten, and smoothed back her hair, which was starting to curl at the ends, no thanks to the humidity of D.C. Booth's door closed, his SUV gave off an attentive beep safeguarding it from intruders, and walked to the rear. Elle rounded to meet him and he held his hands, palms up, and sighed.

"I'm sorry," he reached for her, but she narrowed her eyes, shaking her head.

"Not here, Seeley, okay," she tilted her head towards the security cameras, "not with Big Brother watching."

"Let me get through whatever Cullen has in store for me," Elle began to walk toward the elevator, Booth taking two strides to meet her pace, "then you can ask until you're blue in the face."

"And let me tell you, Seeley Booth," she pushed the round numbered button to the 12th floor and smirked, as the doors sealed them in, "blue's not your color."

If the drive to FBI Headquarters was dull, the tedious walk to the Deputy Director's office was just as eventful. Suits were either too busy in their paperwork to notice the two agents walking in slow motion or the random few, popped their heads up to pay a respective greeting to Seeley. Only one recognized Elle. She knew he had, by the obvious double take, as she passed his desk. She waved a hand over her shoulder,

"Yes, Smythe, I'm alive" she flippantly stated, "no, Smythe don't bother getting up."

The younger agent wavered between standing and sitting, causing the others around him to chuckle. Smythe had been on her team, assigned to work out coordinates, be her contact to the outside, but he was too green, the first dead body he witnessed, he was sent packing back to the States. That left his replacement, a bit angered at the reassignment, and as chills wrapped themselves around the coils of her spine, dead, like the rest of her team. Once she had made herself known, the other agents began their water cooler gossip. Elle could feel the heat rising up her neck to her earlobes. She wrung her fingers at the back of her neck and Seeley whispered,

"Breathe, Donovan," he knocked on the Deputy Director's door, "don't let them rattle you."

"Enter," came Deputy Director Cullen's strong voice, Booth opened the door and allowed Elle to walk in ahead of him. He closed the door behind him. Elle took a few lengthy strides to the Director's desk and stood at ease.

"Deputy Director," Elle voiced her presence, staring down at the shiny balding spot on the aging Director's scalp. He was a handsome man, with steel blue eyes, snow white hair, close cut, with an angular nose. He proceeded to finish reading what could have only been her file, slid a few papers back in, tapped the folder so that all was aligned, and set it aside. Removing his glasses, he set those aside as well, looked up at Agent Donovan, his facial expression serious. He glanced past her and eyed Special Agent Booth. He motioned for Booth to leave.

"Sir, with all due respect, I was told to be here," Booth stood with his hands behind his back, his posture tall and sturdy.

"With all due respect, Booth, you were requested to be here, by me," the Deputy Director reminded him, "now, please leave the two of us to chat, and come back in twenty minutes."

Booth wanted Elle to turn around, needed to make sure she was okay, but she never faltered, never moved an inch. The Director made a strangling noise from his throat and waved Booth out, again.

"That'd be all, Agent Booth."

"Yes Sir," Booth acquiesced and exited the office.

"Sir," Elle extended her hand, to which the Deputy Director did something uncharacteristic, that she thought she might have misinterpreted him. He relaxed his posture; he smiled, stood up, and extended his hand outright.

"Agent Donovan," he squeezed her hand and shook it once with force, "Welcome home."

"Thank you Sir," she returned to her previous stance, "it's good to be back on home soil."

"Please, Agent Donovan, have a seat." The Director rounded his desk and sat in one of the leather chairs that were situated in front of his desk. He pointed to the corner, where coffee and a carafe of chilled water were readily available. Elle declined.

"Sir, with all due respect," Elle wasn't one to beat around the bush, "I didn't come here to socialize, I came for my reassignment."

"With all due respect," he echoed her sentiment, "do you know how many times I hear that a day, Agent Donovan?" He chuckled to himself. Elle didn't know whether to laugh along with him or brace for a harsh reprimand.

"Sir?"

"Agent Donovan, while you are being reassigned, you are not being demoted or requested to leave your current position with the agency." He waited for her to absorb the information and while he assumed the wheels were turning in her head and before she could ask the next question, he answered it for her.

"You were ordered back home for another assignment, one that is more important than your previous operative."

"Am I going undercover, Sir?" Elle trained in Special Ops, she was a master of disguise, languages, cultures, but the idea of going back under the Taliban rule caused goose bumps to surface on her clammy skin.

"On the contrary, Agent Donovan, your assignment is to capture known insurgents that you identified in Afghanistan."

"Sir, with all," she stopped herself midsentence, "my mission was blown, anyone I identified and made contact with, are long gone."

"Sending me back would only lead to my death."

"There was no mention Agent Donovan that you were being sent back, on the contrary, you are to remain here, in D.C. working together with Agent Booth and the Jeffersonian, as well as working your own operations."

"Your assignment to the Jeffersonian is to be your cover, if I am not making myself clear, Agent."

"No, Sir, I understood."

"Good," he slapped his hands on his thighs, and commented with fatherly approval, "Your actions, Agent Donovan, while undercover, were commendable, in fact, tomorrow, you are to arrive at the Grand Hyatt, at 1600, to be the recipient of the FBI Star Medallion."

"Bring a guest of course," the director looked towards the glass doors that lead to the hall outside his office, just as Booth was making his way back to the Director's office.

"It appears our twenty minutes is coming to a head," he raised a finger to his temple, "let's settle this now, shall we, Agent Donovan?"

"Yes'Sir, just so I'm clear on the matter, you want me to work on operative here in D.C. overseeing my own team, as well as working with Agent Booth?"

"Yes, Agent Donovan," the director paused, "do you accept?"

"On two conditions," Elle regained her composure and listed her demands, she was to hand pick her own team, and she was to disclose all information to Agent Booth. The director, smiled, stood up, walked back to his desk, and handed her a bundle of manila envelopes. He informed her that she was to have handpicked her team within the next 48 hours and whether or not she wanted to disclose everything to Agent Booth was to be at her own discretion.

"Thank you Sir," Elle held out her hand, but the Director shook his head,

"Now that the formality is over, Elle, would you be offended if I welcomed you back as a friend?" He offered her his arms and wrapped her in a hug that lasted a few seconds.

A rapping at the door alerted the director that Booth was back and he called for Agent Booth to enter, while escorting Agent Donovan out.

"48 hours, Agent Donovan," he patted her on the shoulder, "and don't forget, tomorrow night, The Grand Hyatt at 8 p.m. sharp."

"Yes sir," she shook his hand, gave Booth a warm smile, and told him she'd wait for him outside.

The doors were closing, but Booth lingered, stealing a moment with Elle,

"How'd it…," Booth's inquiry was cut short by the Director's gravel like voice booming the agent's name,

"Booth!"


End file.
